


Before the Dawning

by MoonytheMarauder1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Generation Gap, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23472403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonytheMarauder1/pseuds/MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: Hermione didn't really need a soulmate, but when the connection beckoned her, she followed. She didn't regret it.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 7
Kudos: 185





	Before the Dawning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! Some things to note before the beginning of this fic:
> 
> 1.) This is a Soulmate!AU that takes place post-canon. 
> 
> 2.) There is absolutely no underage here. Everyone is a consenting adult.
> 
> 3.) Yes, I am aware that Hermione is ridiculously young to be minister. Roll with it, please. 
> 
> WARNINGS: Some minor violence and injury.

At twenty-six years old, Hermione had just about given up hope of having a soulmate.

She wasn't bitter about the fact. She was happy with her life, whether or not she was involved romantically with someone. Still, the idea that there wasn't someone waiting for her was a bit disappointing.

Hermione didn't let herself dwell on it, and besides, there was always a chance that she'd meet her soulmate later in life. A person was only guided to their soulmate when the partners were ready for each other, after all. She was content to wait, even if it took forever.

So it definitely wasn't her soulmate she was thinking about one evening as she sat in her office, stubbornly filling out the endless paperwork on her desk. Her quill was working furiously, and her nose was mere inches away from the parchment as she wrote. No doubt there would be a crick in her neck come morning; she didn't mind. The work of the minister was never done.

Hermione blinked against the itching in her brown eyes, fighting off her exhaustion. It was late in the evening, and most of the other Ministry employees had already returned home. Her only light came from the many candles illuminating the room; it was impractical, but wizards hadn't adopted electrical lighting.

Eventually, Hermione decided to call it quits. Stifling a yawn, she got to her feet and stretched her arms above her head. With a flick of her wand, all the paper sorted itself into neat piles and the ink put itself away. Hermione picked up her bag and began walking towards the door. The next wave of her wand should have put all the candles out.

But one little light remained.

Hermione turned slowly to face it. Her brow knitted together as she approached the flame, watching it ripple and dance. Suddenly, the light lifted itself off of the wick. All the soulmate tales flooded Hermione, stories of how a person was led to their soulmate: _a light will guide your way._

She could hardly dare believe that it was her time, but as the light traveled towards her, she didn't have any other explanation for the event. Watching the light approach was enchanting, and when it floated past her, she easily decided to follow it.

The light led Hermione out of the Ministry and through the busy streets of London. It was a little difficult to keep up in the heels she wore to work, but Hermione was nothing if not determined. The candle flame raced through the night, eventually stopping to hover in front of a pub, which Hermione knew catered to both magical and Muggle customers. Once she was at the door, though, she hesitated. Her heart was beating wildly, she was eager to see who was on the other side of the door… but she was also fearful of the answers she would find.

Hermione pulled her emerald green cloak more tightly around her shoulders as she gathered her courage. She'd waited years for this moment; she'd be damned if she let nerves stop her now.

She walked through the doors. The little flame settled on her knuckles painlessly, and a small smile curved her lips as it tugged at her, gently guiding her through the sea of patrons. The pub was very loud and crowded, which wasn't at all to Hermione's tastes, but she barrelled through anyway. Soon enough, she was stopped a short distance away from a table where two men in cloaks were doing business. Hermione watched them silently, wondering which one was her soulmate.

She didn't have to wait long. A sack of gold was handed to the man on the right, and in return the other received what Hermione suspected to be rare potions ingredients. The two men stood, hoods obscuring their faces, and then one departed. The little flame stayed where it was, so Hermione followed suit.

The remaining man caught sight of her then and stiffened. With a little prompting from the flame, Hermione took a couple steps forward. She raised her hand so the stranger could see the flame dancing across her knuckles.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I think you're my—"

"That is a completely ridiculous idea, Granger." The harsh voice that spoke was one Hermione knew well, and her heart plummeted.

Her eyes widened. "Professor Snape?"

He lifted his chin, and now the light chased the shadows from his face. His skin was just as pale as she remembered, his nose just as large. There were some changes, however: slate grey was invading the black of his hair, and he was thinner than he had been when teaching at Hogwarts.

"It's just Snape now, Granger," he said cooly. "I retired from teaching many years ago. Now if you'll excuse me, I have places I need to be."

"Wait!" Hermione wasn't sure why she'd rushed forwards to grab Snape's sleeve, but even though her mind was reeling at the revelation, there was a primal instinct screaming at her not to let her soulmate go. "Please, Snape… can't we discuss this?"

Black eyes locked onto Hermione. "I hardly think such a conversation would be worth my time," he snapped. Hermione would have abandoned her efforts there, but then she glanced down to see that his hands were shaking.

He was terrified, she realized with a jolt. He was being defensive.

Just as soon as she connected the dots, Snape turned on his heel and was out the door before Hermione could call out to him. She instinctively knew that he'd Apparated as soon as he was out the door.

The little flame curled onto the palm of her hand. Hermione watched it for a moment, afraid that it would sputter out. The fire kept burning as brightly as ever, though, and a small part of Hermione relaxed; the other parts wondered what she was supposed to do now.

* * *

A week later, Hermione walked into her flat, pulling pins from her hair and letting the bushy dark curls fall unhindered about her face. She ran a hand over her face and stumbled into her bedroom. She sat on the mattress with relief and tugged off her black heels, then rubbed at the angry red imprint lines.

Hermione collapsed back against the pillows. It had been another long day, made worse by the way her mind kept wandering to the elusive Severus Snape.

The past week, she'd debated whether or not she should pursue the soulmate connection. The fact that the bond had appeared in the first place made her confident that the older man was capable of the love required, but the question of whether she was ready to love him remained.

The age difference didn't bother her, and she could forgive his past actions. They'd all been forced to do terrible things in the war—if she could forgive Harry his Unforgivable Curses and Draco Malfoy his misdeeds, why shouldn't she forgive Snape? He'd been horrible during her school years, but now she wondered if that hadn't been his way of coping with the disconnect he had with others—a disconnect she could understand. Hermione knew without a doubt that if Harry and Ron hadn't come to rescue her from the troll in first year, she wouldn't have been friends with them at all.

So yes, the threat of loneliness was one she understood well. But what should she do? There was no way for her to contact Snape, unless she did some real investigating… and she wasn't comfortable using her privileges as minister for this.

Sighing heavily, Hermione let her eyes drift shut. It was difficult to understand why she wasn't doing more to get what she wanted—her inaction was driving her mad. She'd never been one to sit and wait for what she wanted. But now that answers were so close…

Hermione groaned and rolled out of bed. She was indecisive about what the best thing to do was, certainly, but she knew what she _wanted_. To pursue Snape— _Severus_ —was to put her faith completely in the hands of the universe. It was a terrifying notion to her (yet another thing she had in common with her soulmate), but she realized that she could control where she put that faith.

Hermione ran to her closet and took out a change of clothes. Once she was in something more comfortable, she threw on a cloak and headed outside. It was time, she decided, to let caution go and trust the universe.

Luckily, the little flame, which had made itself at home on her hand, seemed to know her intent. It jumped into the air and raced out of the building. Hermione grinned before chasing after it.

The London street lamps lit up the city as night began to fall. Storm clouds grew overhead, but Hermione paid them no mind; there were charms for that. All that mattered was finding Severus and _talking_ to him.

She'd figure out what she wanted to say later.

Just like she'd known it would, the flame led her straight to the person she sought. Severus was walking briskly through the streets, wearing robes despite the fact that they were deep in Muggle London. Hermione raced over to him, determined to make him listen this time.

He caught sight of her and his expression hardened. But he didn't Apparate away; there were too many Muggles around for that. Hermione wouldn't be ignored, though—she reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Please," she said, "just listen to me."

"Let _go_ of me, Granger. I told you before, we have nothing to discuss—"

"Just try and stop me," she cut in, raising her chin in defiance. She was breathing heavily, but her feet were planted firmly on the ground before Severus. He stared at her with his dark eyes, his face unreadable. Finally, he spoke.

"You always have been unbearably persistent." His lips thinned. "Let's talk then, if I don't have any choice in the matter."

It was a funny feeling, the combination of hope and nerves blossoming in her chest. "Thank you," she said softly. "I wanted to say—"

"If you intend to continue this conversation here, Miss Granger, I hope you've brought an umbrella."

Hermione faltered and glanced up at the sky, letting out a muttered curse as the first few drops of rain began to fall. She bit her lip and looked hesitantly back at Severus. "You didn't happen to, did you?"

"Even if I had, I would not lend it to you." Severus was completely unimpressed, and Hermione knew that any conversation in the rain would not be considered fully.

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, groaning in frustration when they met a knot. She raised a brow at the older man and said, "Do you know where the nearest pub is?"

Snape grit his teeth in anger, but even he didn't want to be caught out in the rain. So when the water began falling from the sky, he turned on his heel and began moving quickly down the street. Hermione hastened to follow.

She was relieved when he finally turned into a building, and she let him lead them to a table near the back in a shadowy corner. She was happy to have the privacy, though she suspected his choice was more of a force of habit than a wish to give her that luxury.

Severus sat back in his chair and lifted a brow, clearly waiting.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, worried about what she would say. After a moment, the words left her tongue of their own accord.

"We're soulmates," she said, cutting straight to the chase. "I don't know why, or how, but really, who does? All I know is that you must be ready to try with me—otherwise the flame wouldn't have come." She lifted her hand to show him what she meant.

He waited for her to continue, but when she didn't he said a bit impatiently, "I've seen it before, Granger. A soulflame. What does it have to do with me?"

She blinked. "Well, it's… we're connected."

Severus uncrossed his arms and laid his palms flat on the table. "If you brought me here to tell me that we must be together because the universe has decreed it, then any respect I might have regarded you with has gone. I am not a man of whimsy. I did not think you were a woman of one."

"I'm not," Hermione assured him. "I only mean that… that this connection is something I've wanted for a long time." She was nervous about laying herself bare, but she knew that her former professor needed to hear this. "And I don't expect us to fall in love this year, in ten years—maybe ever. But that doesn't mean that some sort of companionship couldn't come from this. I think that's something both of us could benefit from."

Severus regarded her carefully. He did not attempt to use Legilimency against her, which was a good sign. She let him do whatever processing he needed for a minute before continuing.

"We don't have a wonderful history," she admitted. "But I'm willing to start over with a clean slate."

Black eyes found hers. "You cannot just _wipe the slate clean_ ," he growled. "Some things do not deserve forgiveness. Some things cannot be forgotten. The past is not so fickle."

Hermione inclined her head in agreement. "Second chances exist, though."

Severus' face darkened. "I have received many second chances in my lifetime. I don't need another."

Hermione clenched her hands into fists, desperate to find the words to make him stay. "Don't you want to be more than the Death Eater turned spy?" she asked. By the way Severus stiffened, she knew he was listening raptly. "I can't promise that the world will view you in a different light… but I want to. _That's_ what I'm offering you."

His eyes narrowing, Severus spoke in barely a whisper. "And why would you want to give me that?"

"I don't like having enemies," she answered honestly. "And I see no point in holding a grudge."

Minutes passed in silence, but Hermione refused to break it. She knew Severus was testing her patience, so she waited until he decided it was time to talk.

"You're forgetting," he said slowly, "that once you associate with me, _Minister_ " —it was the first time he'd addressed her by her proper title, and she winced— "you will lose favor in the public eye. I own a small apothecary that caters to those less loved by the government for that very reason. Should you pursue this, you may very well say farewell to your career."

"I guess," Hermione began, "we've learned that no matter who you are or where you come from, life is a terrible thing. Is that what you want me to say?" She leaned forwards while still maintaining eye contact with him. "I don't believe that, Severus." His nostrils flared at the use of his first name, but she barrelled on. "I may lose some favor with the public, but you can't poison every social aspect of my life. I have more faith in people than that. So I won't take that excuse."

Another silence. Then—

"Stubborn as a mule, Granger."

"I just want a chance."

Hermione waited while Severus seemed to debate internally with himself. Finally, he leaned back in his chair.

"I won't get any peace if I refuse, will I, Granger?"

Her lips twitched as she used her own words against him. "Stubborn as a mule."

His lips thinned. "I'll see what I can arrange."

* * *

They began meeting once every fortnight. Hermione would go down to the apothecary and assist Severus in his work as she tried to engage him in conversation. Most of the time, he only allowed insults and instructions to escape his throat, but after many months he released one or two words of praise per meeting.

Severus was able to really thrive in his lab, Hermione had discovered. She'd never actually seen her professor at work, but now that she was able to she had no choice but to admit that he was highly skilled in the art. Potion brewing came as naturally to him as breathing, and he treated it with a reverence she'd never seen him express before.

The job didn't bring him much wealth, but the witch suspected that he enjoyed it much more than he had teaching. And though he'd been tense throughout the first half of their meetings, he gradually relaxed in her presence.

Their conversations grew longer and more two-sided, and then more personal. Sometimes, Hermione would tell Severus about the happenings at the Ministry. He would listen silently for the most part, acknowledging her with the occasional nod. Hermione didn't mind; she could tell he was listening, and for the first time ever, someone could follow her in this type of conversation.

One day, she vented about one of the issues she was facing as Minister.

"...and I just don't know what to do!" she finished, exasperated. "I see the value in both arguments, and the Wizengamot is so evenly divided…"

Severus didn't look up from his potion, but he did raise a brow. "The best politicians," he said in a low voice, "are not always the popular ones."

Hermione blinked. "Sorry?"

"You've always known what you wanted… Hermione." She fought not to express the shock she felt at hearing her first name. "I don't believe that this is any different. _You_ are Minister. You must do what you think is best."

Hermione thought about that for a moment. Severus had a point—she couldn't please everyone, and no matter what she did, there would be some very unhappy people. So if there was no way to win…

"Thank you," she said with some surprise. "That's very helpful, Severus."

And to her further shock, Severus let his lips twitch upwards in a brief smile.

Maybe, Hermione thought, they were getting somewhere.

* * *

It was a year later when it happened.

Hermione was lounging in a chair after a long day of work, contentedly watching Severus as he brewed yet another potion. They kept up a comfortable stream of conversation, not discussing anything of importance, until they lulled into a natural silence. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable.

So Hermione decided to say what had been on her mind for the past week.

"I love you, you know," she said in a whisper. Snape's eyes began to rise from the cauldron, and she quickly looked away. "I try not to, but I can't stop."

No response. Then—

"Why… why do you try not to?"

Feeling a little braver, Hermione locked eyes with him. "Because you don't want me to," she breathed.

Severus' voice was hoarse when he spoke, his eyes moving down to the little flame that still circled her hand. "I think—"

He was interrupted when the wall exploded.

Hermione was forced from her chair by the blast, momentarily weightless as she flew through the air, and then landed painfully on the floor amidst the debris. Her head snapped back against the stone with a sickening _crack_.

The breath knocked from her lungs and her ears ringing, Hermione lay sprawled on the ground for an indiscernible amount of time, stunned. But then her mind cleared enough for her to realize that someone was standing over her, protecting her from the worst of the wreckage.

She managed to lock eyes with Severus, whose black eyes were burning with determination. He glanced down at her.

"Don't worry," she heard him say, though his voice sounded far away. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Then everything faded to black.

* * *

When Hermione woke, the lights blinded her.

She groaned as she squinted, the pain in her head on the edge of intolerable. She lifted her hand to shield her face, but her movements were sluggish. Hermione fought to keep her eyes open, and eventually her vision focused. She took in her surroundings—white walls, a window to her right brightened with blue curtains, bright baubles of light gathered about the ceiling—this was St. Mungo's.

"You're awake."

Hermione turned her head, ignoring the ache that followed. Her brown eyes widened when she saw who was at her bedside.

"Severus," she croaked. "What—"

"Don't speak." He reached for a glass of water and a pitcher on the bedside table and helped her drink it. "You've suffered many injuries, but none are particularly worrisome."

Hermione nodded her thanks as she drank. After a couple sips, the pain in her throat lessened. She looked back at Severus. "What happened?" she asked. "I remember the wall…"

"An attempted murder or kidnapping of the minister," Severus replied stiffly. "Uncommon, but not rare." He eyed her carefully. "It happens to the best of politicians."

Despite the horrific statement, Hermione's face grew warm at the rare praise. She opened her mouth to question him further, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"I was mostly unaffected," he promised, somehow guessing what she wanted to know. "I put a shield up, then managed to place one over you." His black eyes swept over her face. "You're safe," he added, his voice rough.

Hermione was touched. She knew he was uncomfortable here, in the hospital where anyone could come in. But he was still in that chair, watching over her. Hope flooded her heart, but she tamped it down for the time being.

"Thank you for staying," she whispered after a moment.

Severus remained silent, then reached out shaking fingers. The long, pale digits stopped a breath away from her hand.

"I am not moving," he said hoarsely, "for anything less than the end of the world."

Hermione let her lips turn upward, but she didn't move her hand. Severus had to take the initiative; she didn't want to scare him away.

But he continued speaking. "You've changed everything," he told her, sounding a bit disgruntled. "I knew what to expect before you came along."

Hermione swallowed thickly. "And now?"

"Now…" Severus hesitated. "I am a new man, now." Another pause. "I couldn't let them hurt you."

He seemed surprised by the fact. Hermione wasn't surprised, though; she'd suspected the sort of man he was beneath all his defenses.

"I know," she said softly. "Thank you."

Severus just stared at her. "I didn't think I would want to be better for you." He frowned deeply. "I am not… an open man, Hermione."

"I know," she assured him. "I don't mind."

He leaned closer to her, and for once, she could read some of the emotion on his face. "I couldn't stand to see you hurt." He wasn't so much speaking to her anymore, just puzzling things out loud. "I haven't striven for anything since the war… but…"

Hermione let a little laugh bubble out of her chest. "I love you," she told him for the second time. "And I feel those things for you, too."

He didn't respond, and his gaze dropped from her… but he let his fingers fall to her hand. She smiled at the small contact.

"You don't have to figure it all out now," she whispered. "The future is _brighter_ , Severus. For both of us." It was a bold claim, but she believed it.

"Hermione." He was looking at her now, confusion, fear, and something oddly akin to hope shining in his eyes. "I… feel similarly to you."

Her lips twitched, knowing that it was as close to an 'I love you' that she'd be able to get for a while yet. "Lie with me," she requested suddenly. She just needed him close. "Would you lie with me and… just forget the world?"

Severus hesitated, having difficulty overcoming his reservations. But he pulled his chair closer and let their fingers lace together. It was enough of a reward for her patience, and even better was the way Severus smoothed her hair from her face as she drifted back to sleep.

Neither of them were perfect—neither of their _souls_ were perfect—but Hermione knew that they would be better someday. Life was already so much better… and now she could face the future with someone by her side.

The soulflame on her hand burned a little bit brighter.


End file.
